Immovable Mage

– Era of the Wastes, Cycle 218, Season of the Setting Sun, Day 39 –

As so often, Terry was hanging around alone in the sky. His primary focus was on all the bustling mana signatures down on the ground. Ever since he had stopped looking for Vicious directly and instead followed the weird mana traces the channeler had left on his own targets, his hunt had become more promising.

Unfortunately, Eric’s reputation as a coward had been proven accurate as well. The one time that Terry had been able to catch up to the vanishing target signature in time, the channeler fled as soon as Terry appeared. To make it worse, Terry had been blamed by the dead martialist’s friends, which had led to another handful of dead martialists and Terry being delayed from following Vicious’s tracks.

Another reason for paying close attention to the bustling below was that everything had turned from bad to worse. Terry had always been bewildered at the martialists’ seeming lack of self-preservation instincts, but even he had been taken aback by the sheer amount of blood flowing in the past days.

Another large-scale battle…

Terry was sensing two opposing groups of martialists fighting each other to the death. The members of each group shared similar mana signatures, which Terry concluded to mean that these were two different martial sects with each member of one group belonging to the same sect.

Terry finally saw with his own mana-enhanced eyes why martialists like the Thunderous Palm Sect had risked so much for a single additional entrance ticket. The real trial was not to win a treasure, but to be able to keep it. Most of the time, Terry saw the larger faction coming out as the winners. Numbers mattered.

Numbers…

Terry could not help but think that this thought process was completely reasonable from the perspective of each individual sect, but that it led to an inevitable horror story when everyone was attempting the same. He was currently seeing that horror play out in all corners of this pocket realm.

Terry shook his head. It was not just that the confrontations grew increasingly bloody. No, at the end of it all, there was something even more lethal waiting.

Terry had learned that depending on the type of ticket, several dozen people had arrived with a single ticket. Numbers mattered. However, only a single person was able to leave with that ticket, which meant that the rest were struggling to conquer another person’s ticket.

No one had survived from one opening of the folded space to the next. Whatever the reason, the martialists equated being stuck in this realm with certain death. Those that still lacked an exit ticket were naturally fighting with increasing ferociousness, back-stabbing, and despair.

Since the last major incident with Chalita’s trap, Terry had been ambushed countless times by smaller groups. Sometimes the culprits were trying to rob Terry’s king spear, but with growing frequency, their goal was the magic tickets in his possession.

As of this day, Terry had collected more than forty tickets from the corpses of martialists. He had to grimace wryly when thinking about it. He had generally been trying to stay away from the battle-crazed lunatics and still, such numbers had piled up with time.

Weird to think that each ticket I carry means life or death for a person in this folded space…

Terry circulated his mana into his divine hammer inscriptions and observed the changes in the structure he had created. His secondary focus was to experiment with the inscription to test a few long-shot ideas.

He was still trying to figure out how to move his summoned layers of the translucent golden mana. His practice with the unstoppable shift combination of his Immovable Object spell and his disruption discharges had given him an idea he wanted to try.

Who says I have to move the whole structure at once? Is it possible to add new layers in front and then I drop layers in the back? Wouldn’t that seem like movement too?

I wish I could ask Aunt Sigille…

Focus.

Terry had easily succeeded in creating rolling layers of divine mana.

Three layers created.

Putting another layer in front.

Dropping the last layer.

Repeat.

Terry ‘moved’ the layers of divine mana around himself without any problems. This exercise still played to his strengths. Rapid summoning was the one aspect of the inscription use he had mastered the quickest.

“I’m an idiot.” Terry cursed himself mid-exercise.

He had belatedly realized a problem with his idea. It was a problem he should have realized the moment he had come up with it. It was a similar problem to another one his only spell had posed. It was the reason why Terry had to invent boot mechanisms and other contraptions.

His layers of mana were stationary. They did not carry any momentum. They could not push.

Pushing required real movement.

Terry scrunched up his face in thought. “Unless I can push by reshaping the layers?”

Which just brings me to another problem…

His use of the divine hammer inscription was based on instantly summoning a specific shape and then maintaining it. He did not know if that was the normal way to use it. He did not have anyone to ask for reference. Not since his aunt Sigille had died.

New goal.

Terry switched his exercise and began attempting to change the shape of the layers of divine mana he had already created. Adjusting an already summoned structure of divine mana was a goal he had never tried before.

He discovered that it was beyond his current means, but after a number of repetitions, Terry found the task less daunting than moving a structure whole. At the very least, the exercise should improve his inscription control. Even if the big breakthrough did not happen, it would provide incremental benefits and new ways for using the inscription.

I could experiment with different shapes as well…

Terry was immersed in his training until he noticed one of Vicious’s target signatures move towards an isolated area.

Perfect spot for Vicious to strike.

Terry lifted himself up and gathered his equipment. If Vicious was going after this martialist, then Terry wanted to be ready to go after Vicious. He used the communication talisman that Apex had given him to send her a quick message that received no reply.

Then, he dashed through the sky on layers of divine mana.

***

Yeah, I’m not falling for that.

Terry was staring down at the secluded spot and clicked his tongue.

Not again. I’ve learned my lesson.

On a surface level, it appeared as if the person that carried the traces of Vicious’s mana was all alone, but Terry knew better.

Whatever artifact they are using to cloak their presence is impressive though. Is this another sign of the approaching deadline? People are more willing to employ their hidden cards? To go all out?

Terry was inwardly thanking his past self for developing his mana touch ability. Even with his exquisite mana sense, he could be blindsided by more sophisticated concealment artifacts. By contrast, his mana touch scouting remained unbeaten so far.

Even though he knew that this was a setup, Terry was still lingering around. He was uncertain about what to do. The main reason for his hesitation was that he was not sure for whom the trap was intended.

Terry’s reflex had been to distance himself from the trap, because his mind had automatically jumped to all the other ambushes he had walked into. However, whoever created this particular trap must have intentionally used this particular martialist as bait.

Why would anyone think that Terry would be lured in by this person? Terry did not know the martialist, nor did he care one bit.

Whom were they trying to bait?

The most likely scenario was that they were just baiting other martialists. Terry had seen plenty of martialists targeting others to rob their possessions. He had also seen some that had exploited this greed to lure their victims into traps.

Terry was beyond caring what these battle-crazed knuckle-brains were doing to each other, but there was one possibility he was unwilling to dismiss out of hand. Vicious had secretly picked off victims from all kinds of factions. What if they had finally caught on to the channeler’s activity?

From what Terry knew, none of the martialists had a mana sense developed enough to detect the weird mana that Vicious was placing in his targets. But what if they had figured it out another way?

Or was the martialist chosen as bait just a coincidence? Were they really just throwing out bait for other martialists?

Terry first sent a message to Apex about the situation and then decided to wait and see.

The silent stalemate went on for nearly two hours without anything happening. Terry could sense the target getting antsy, standing up, pacing around, abandoning his direction abruptly and sitting back down.

He could feel the martialist covertly exchanging a small round object with one of the hidden signatures. A short while later, the target suddenly coughed up blood and collapsed pale-faced.

Terry narrowed his eyes. In his mana sight, he saw the man’s mana growing weaker, but he knew better thanks to his mana touch. Whatever was going on in the man’s body was just pulling the mana inwards and hiding it from the outside.

Could have been a pill. Something to fake an injury.

Not falling for that.

Terry waited for another hour in which nothing happened aside from some of the hidden martialists moving around to gather in small groups with individuals traveling between them.

Suddenly, all kinds of mana signatures were rushing forth.

A sphere was rapidly darting half-way towards Terry and then flared up with mana.

Terry simultaneously sensed a mana distortion around the sphere and felt the pull of an unanchored spatial transfer on himself. He instinctively burst his mana to block what he assumed was a forced location switch with the sphere.

A golden disk appeared underneath Terry and created an intense suction force that left Terry unconcerned despite its strength. Even if his layers of divine mana weren’t sturdy enough to resist, his immovable boots definitely were.

Terry shrugged off a barrage of magic artifacts until one appeared that created a large transparent cube of light-blue mana with him at its center.

This feels familiar…

He was reminded of the times he had scouted the edge of this folded space. The sensation came with a bad premonition that immediately turned into a damning realization when Terry tried bolting away.

His steps felt normal, but he was seemingly running in place.

Space distortion.

Terry tentatively burst his mana to try and overcome whatever space magic was causing the effect, but he discovered that it did not help. Just like he had guessed for the edge of the pocket realm. However the effect worked, his oscillating burst did not break it.

Terry quickly hurled out an old throwing needle. He wanted to curse when the metal moved as if it was moving through thick glue.

His inner Academy student and battle-experienced coliseum contestant were racing with each other to point out that this distortion limited incoming attacks as well. He knew which kind of attacks would follow before he even sensed the first speck of lightning-aspected mana.

Before the barrage of lightning and laser-focused light had any chance to threaten Terry, he had already surrounded himself with immovable tertium slabs.

“This damned turtle!” Now it was the martialists’ turn to curse.

“A cockroach is what he is. How are we supposed to kill him now?”

“We even went into debt to borrow so many expensive artifacts and this is the result?!”

Terry was peeking through the tiny gaps he had left in his immovable fortress. Many of these martialists were wearing masks.

“Do you have anything we can use to get through?” One of the unmasked martialists was asking a man in a fox-mask and black-golden robes.

“Costly.”

Terry had to do a double-take, because what he was hearing did not match what he was sensing with his mana touch. The voice did not match the mana signature he knew to be there.

The masks. There would be no need to bother with stuff like this if their goal had been to deal with Vicious.

The artifacts. There would be no justification to waste such expensive resources if their target had been a random nobody.

This was a trap for me, only it did not go as they planned.

Let’s spoil their fun further.

The little shits.

“Shen.” Terry called out to the man in the fox-mask. “Piss off.”

For a moment, there was silence.

“To whom might you be speaking?” The man in the fox-mask replied.

“To you, Shen.” Terry sneered with disdain. “No matter if you change your appearance, alter your voice, or cloak your mana, I recognize you. All of you.”

“Believe what you wish.” The man in the fox-mask retorted, seemingly unconcerned.

“The bear-mask is the bushy eyebrow from your group,” announced Terry. “The owl is the red-haired woman with the scar above her left eye. The cat is the one with a giant sword that is usually dressed in pink. The flat white masks are the group of idiots I met at the beginning, one of whom I stabbed a few times…”

One by one, Terry was announcing the identities of those among the masked opponents he recognized before concluding his little speech: “My memory is almost as good as my senses. I will remember you. I will remember what will happen from now on. My list of people to hunt has grown rather short. I can add a few more before this realm ends.”

Again, there was silence, but this time it felt heavier to everyone around. Even some of the co-conspirators had apparently been unaware of each others’ identities.

“...believe what you wish.” Shen repeated.

“Thanks, Shen. I will do just that.” Terry scoffed at the way the martialists tried so hard to keep up appearances. Whatever plausible deniability they were planning to rely on, Terry was not having it. “What’s the plan here? See whose artifacts run out first? So far, you seem to be losing.” He noticed a change in Shen’s posture but did not understand which part of his taunt the martialist was reacting to.

“Let’s just blast him to shreds,” yelled one of the martialists in a flat white mask. “I refuse to believe he can continue holding on.”

“Yes, all this yapping is costing us time. The artifact won’t last forever. Let’s do this.”

“No, wait!” An unmasked person shouted. “We can talk this through.” The woman looked at Terry. “We just want your tickets.”

“Oh, just that, is it?” Terry sneered.

“You can keep one for yourself,” added the woman hurriedly.

The rational part of Terry’s brain was pointing out that he could spare a few.

“You have forty-three, so just cough up forty-two and then we will let you go,” interjected another martialist in a haughty tone.

They know the exact number of tickets in my possession? That’s definitely Shen’s intel.

Terry was still processing the information when the martialists started to quarrel with each other.

“Why would we let him go? The bastard has other treasures.” The shout came from the group with flat white masks.

“Yeah, we’ve had to invest a fortune just to get here. Why let the fat pig go?”

The more Terry heard, the less inclined he was to give these beasts anything, even if it was something he did not really need.

“Screw you! We came here for tickets. If we can get them without a fight and without sinking ourselves further in debt, then let’s take the chance!”

“In that case, I want to renege the allocation of tickets! Forty-two is not enough. If we leave him one, then our sect wants more of the others!”

“Right, if things change, then we have to…”

Terry had stopped listening to the quarreling martialists. He was biding his time until the space-distorting artifact ran out while paying attention to two things in particular: Shen, who was suspiciously silent throughout the quarrel, and the approaching mana signatures of martialists that were attracted by the commotion.

“What do you say?”

Terry became aware that the woman had asked him a direct question. He could hear the rational corner of his mind point out that he could spare the tickets and if it got him out of this situation, then why not?

He stared at Shen whom he knew to have a stockpile of tickets. Perhaps Shen didn’t sell his tickets. Perhaps the desperate martialists were unable or unwilling to pay the price. No matter which way, it was obvious that they were unwilling to offend Shen, but they seemed perfectly willing to risk a violent confrontation with Terry.

It seems my hunt has not left enough of an impression.

Terry could almost feel the Warlord judge his actions as insufficient and he sternly told the rational part of his mind to shove it.

“So you all want my spare tickets and are willing to threaten my life for them?” Terry roared angrily. There was no reply. Their actions spoke for themselves.

Has no one ever taught these beasts that you can ask if you want something? Or trade? I know that at least some of them are familiar with the general concepts.

Something seems off about their actions. Perhaps they are not of a single mind.

Terry peeked at the bystanders. “And you are all willing to watch idly?”

Of course, you are. Half of you are probably waiting for them to get the tickets so that you can go after them in turn.

Terry felt madness raise its ugly head inside of him and he laughed out loud. He repositioned the tertium pieces to allow a small gap.

“These tickets?” Terry hurled exactly forty-two tickets outside his immovable fortress. The space distortion made it seem as if they were glued to the air, for all to see, and easily countable.

Hope and relief joined the greed in the eyes of martialists.

A blue-green spearhead led by an extending orange pole pierced into the center of the magic tickets. An instant later, a bright flash of dense lightning incinerated all the forty-two tickets at once. The remaining ashes were hanging in the distorted space to taunt the martialists’ greed and leave not a single speck of their hopes intact.

Terry was still cackling madly from his immovable fortress while despair settled among the martialists, now bigger than ever.

Forty-two opportunities to escape had just turned into ashes in a second.

Forty-two more lives were facing certain death.

“Leave.” Underneath his fox-mask, Shen spoke grimly.

“What? Why?” The bear mask replied with bewilderment.

“Fool,” spat the owl mask. “Everyone was targeting Terry before. Now, with all these tickets gone, everyone will look for opportunities to take each other out and thin the competition.”

“Or look for alternative targets,” added the cat mask. “Even if they are still aiming for Terry, the battle has already changed. It’s impossible to collaborate like this.”

“Where are you going?” asked the group of martialists with flat white masks.

“You should worry about how to pay your debts instead,” retorted the owl mask. “If you don’t, your seal will bind your clans and sects.”

Shen and his group did not pay the others any further attention. None of the martialists dared to object to their departure. Many of the bystanders used the opportunity to distance themselves from the location as well. Everyone was eying each other with distrust and wariness.

Despair lingered in the air while Terry waited out the space-distorting artifact to face the remaining few martialists.

Before Terry could dart over to hunt down the martialists in flat white masks, however, a woman was already crushing down from the sky with a torrent of azure flames.

“Apex?” Terry subconsciously grinned. It was not because of Apex’s arrival or the fact that she had landed right at the center of his enemies. No, it was because her mana signature had changed qualitatively. It had become much more intense compared to the last time he had seen her.

She has succeeded in her cultivation breakthrough. Nice.

“Which one of these maggots has the mark?” Apex ignored the whimpering and empty threats of the martialists she had burned with her martial technique.

“That one.” Terry pointed at one martialist who was trying to sneak away.

“Good.” Apex’s rapid dash was accompanied by the cries of a phoenix. The rapid whiplash from being grabbed by her was already enough to knock the man out.

At other times, Terry might have been inclined to object to grabbing someone from the street to use as bait. This particular someone, however, had tried to rob Terry a few moments ago, so he really couldn’t care less.

“I figure we are done waiting for opportunities?” Terry had thought of this option before, but he had not wanted to push Apex before her breakthrough. Now, by contrast, he was fine with switching to a more active role again. He guessed that Apex had shared similar thoughts before.

We have the bait, let’s prepare it.

“The little shitstain has lived long enough.” Apex’s eyes were burning intensely.

***